I don't know how many women or girls out there have been mistaken for a salesgirl. I have my share. I didn't give much thought about it, but after more than half a dozen times some white ladies in their sixties, assume me as a sales girl, I started to wonder, is this a genuine mistake? Since then I don't answer them, "I'm not a sales girl, maam," anymore.
If I'm not out running, I've always have a Root backpack or Nike sport bag that I sling across my shoulder. I usually carry my backpack to classroom, work or to the gym. I like to carry Nike sport bag when I go out to the movies, shopping or out with friends. The bag has enough room for my journal and camera. So, when these ladies approach me asking about their bras size, or they want to return their merchandize or just simply ask me, "Are you a salesgirl?", are they so oblivious to anything other than themselves?
This morning I was at Filene's on the second floor. I was holding a couple of Jockey yoga pants in my left hand. I had a yellow rain jacket on, and the strap of the backpack kept sliding down off my shoulder. While trying to adjust my backpack I heard a woman's voice behind me.
"Are you a sales person?" I ignored the voice. The voice came closer.
"Are you a sales person?" I turned around, a tall white lady in peach silk sweater and peach pants, standing about two feet away from me . Her silver, fluffy hair matched her pearl necklace and earrings.
"Ohhh....I was going to ask you the same question, do you have a Medium size of this pants?" I held up the yoga pants in my hand.
Without a word she turned around and walked away.
I doubt that any of those ladies would read my blog, but I'm sure you are not retarded, nor you are senile. I hear you Nathan McCall when you said, Makes Me Wanna Holler.
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